


idle worship

by sundrymunity



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Body Worship, Hand Jobs, M/M, November spoilers, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, absolutely go to mementos for this every time, they're kind of dating but kind of not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundrymunity/pseuds/sundrymunity
Summary: it's not their first time, and it won't be their last, but akira tries something new. goro wishes he could appreciate it as much as his public image should.





	idle worship

It hadn't started as a usual thing. Then again, nothing between them really started _intentionally_ ; Goro recalls the first time Akira kissed him, mid-sentence on a rainy September day, cheeks stained the same red as his own when the only answer he could fumble out was that he couldn't help it when Goro smiled like he had been during... whatever conversation it was, memory blurred by embarrassment.

And now, pressed against one of the seats in a higher rest stop (there's no way they could make it down further without Morgana, and the cat was _already_ going to be mad about them sneaking off down here by themselves anyway), Goro pushes his fingers through Akira's curls and drinks up every offering of affection the other has to give, breath hitching when the other scoots further into his lap, squeezing his shoulders and sliding oddly deft fingers to unbutton the princely outfit the Metaverse allowed him to have. He wonders briefly how Akira'd strip away the other one, if it'd be as easy to tear as it seems or if he'd have to drag a dagger down the fabric, and Goro shudders at the thought of the blade scraping against his skin, the sting of blood hitting air.

"Cold?" Akira asks, lips brushing against his, and Goro laughs.

"No, this place is as pleasant as always," oddly so, never too hot and never too cold, unaffected by outside elements due to its cognitive nature; it's purely because of the people's minds itself that shadows are as affected as they are, and it keeps the Thieves from carrying physical injuries on their person as well. "Just... thinking of something, that's all," he breathes out softly, eyes fluttering closed when Akira's mouth moves just below his jawline, tongue lapping at the skin as the white coat's peeled away and left against the chair. "We can do it next time."

Akira makes a noise Goro recognizes as the unspoken question of _why not now?_ and laughs, tugging off his gloves and the sleeves that follow, chest bared completely. Heart pounding hard enough it could jump out, lungs so light of air it's _dizzying_. " _Next time_ ," he repeats, dragging fingers around Akira's throat and pushing off the black coat, nails biting into the bared skin of his shoulders and grinning at the stutter of breath against his crook of his neck when he digs in hard enough to leave marks.

The next few minutes are speechless but filled with sound, soft groans from gentle touches and hisses from harsher ones. They're free to get as rough as they want here. Goro likes that about the place, how he can impress _every violent thought_ into their foreplay and call it something he gets off on, toeing the line of _too much_ and _just right_ ; hickeys sucked ugly and large, scratches that sting at the stifling air's contact, teeth imprints so deep you'd think Goro'd been trying to rip a piece of him off. And maybe he had been, that time, tonguing the spot in absent comfort when Akira's groan drops into a gasp of genuine pain instead. It's not like Goro doesn't get it in kind, too, there's just as many marks on him; they're just given in a softer way, mouth pliant against his skin and sucking gently, nails drawing lines using repetition over force, and he _hates it_. It fills him with something light and lovely, praise without words, and he craves it more and more with every touch. He hates he's become expectant of them, of Akira's fingers ghosting over goosebumps, and wishes the other teen was rough in return.

It'd make parting easier. He wouldn't want to stay so close, nosing into Akira's pulse and noting, with some inane pleasure, that it's going as fast as his is.

"It's too bad your expression is the same as ever," Goro murmurs, eyeing the other. There's differences in how flushed his skin is, the hunger set in his eyes, but it's not the Akira in the thoughts he has when he's in his apartment alone.

"Yours doesn't change either," Akira counters heatedly, pressing their foreheads together, fingers scraping gently (always gently) at Goro's scalp. His eyes are dark but determined, a fire that goes beyond arousal; Goro's not sure why it's like that, but it is every time. "But I can tell anyway."

That he's enjoying it. That he can't get enough, maybe, and Goro'd feel more pissed about that if he couldn't say the same thing back at Akira. Gazes that linger too long outside the Metaverse. Casual touches in places that'd been marked before. How Akira'd watch him sip coffee and swipe the cup from him near the end, finishing it off while Goro watched his Adam's apple bob briefly.

They wouldn't be able to hide their activities so well if it weren't for Mementos.

"I wanna try something today," Akira mumbles into his skin, hands skirting at Goro's hips and sending a shiver across his form. "Don't complain."

"When have I _ever_?" He asks back, breathless and closing his eyes; they snap open at the soft contact of Akira's lips on his neck again, moving steadily down in a way that doesn't quite fit their usual. Sucks in a sharp breath as the other noses into his pulse and kisses gently there, makes sure to touch _every part_ of what he can reach at the moment and _it's so stifling, the air is suffocating_ and he barely registers pushing Akira off, eyes wide and hands covering his burning neck.

Akira looks up at him from the floor, concern evident in the twist of his frown, but holds the gaze.

He should probably apologize, put on that perfect smile and say it just caught him by surprise, but that was _too rough_ of a shove for it to be just that. Tries to smile anyway, pressing back into the seat. "What is it that you want to do," he asks carefully, voice held together by pride alone, crossing his arms tensely as if that'll help regain composure, "that I might have complaints about?"

The other teen gets back on his knees and slides his hands against the fabric of Goro's pants, seemingly determined to ignore the way he flinches slightly as he replies in such a matter-of-fact earnest way Goro remembers he's a _little_ afraid of the Phantom Thieves' leader, "Something I think you deserve."

That doesn't answer his question in the least, but it only takes a few soft kisses to be allowed back up anyway; he's weak to the way Akira looks on his knees, head tilted to the side as he kisses the insides of his thighs despite the covering and drags him back up for something a little rough, a little normal, a little desperate. Akira's mindful of how he goes from then on, so attentive to Goro's reactions it makes his hair rise with unease and muscles tense, both of which he smooths down with a palm.

It becomes more clear what his game is the longer it goes on, how he pins Goro's wrists with a tight grip and lavishes affection onto them most of all, and Goro's head rolls back with heavy pants and an unmistakable tremble to his body, eyes closed and mind hyperfixating on every gentle brush, every soft kiss and loving touch of Akira's free hand, hips grinding up desperately towards the torturous attention he offers there. He's taking that lovely light feeling Goro gets normally and _overwhelming him with it_ , heart tightening almost unpleasantly. It's one thing for this to be an act (and Goro'd like to say that's all this is, can't wait to see the look on Akira's face when he pushes the barrel of a gun to his temple and tells him it was all fake, _too bad so sad_ ) but it's--

Goro wants so, so badly, for this to be a part of his daily life _permanently_. Brushing his hands through Akira's curls doesn't satisfy that, doesn't stop the sob that erupts suddenly from his throat, doesn't stop the other from simply moving his careful kisses to his heated cheeks instead, doesn't stop shame from rolling tears that're caught between chapped lips and taken like they were never there.

"Don't stop," he half-pleads when Akira's hands still in a hug instead of anything else. "I'm not complaining, am I?"

Akira seems to hesitate a moment, then shakes his head and presses his face into Goro's shoulder, hug tightening. Goro tries to push him off, tries to tug his head away by the curls he'd been so affectionate towards before, and gets nothing but a firmer embrace; this time the sob's caught in his throat, stuck there, and he swallows the hard lump to try and dislodge it. Preferably downward.

His breath steadies eventually. Head tilting back, he stares at the rest stop's ceiling and misses the bustle of the station, misses the stifle of too many people packed in too close quarters, because at least _then_ he'd have a reason to feel so trapped. Akira pulls away a bit, long lashes prominent at this distance, at this angle, and there's no sign of the pity Goro's come to know well from others. There's a quiet question, one he turns his head from, and doesn't protest when Akira's lips dabble in whatever witchcraft they're capable of against his skin again. It takes a bit of the repeated mouthing, silent among the howls of people's voices in the wind of Mementos, but he realizes the other's muttering about promises he can't keep.

Goro laughs.

"Just shut up and kiss me," voice irritated without the heat behind it, and Akira huffs against him.

"Make up your mind already, Goro," the name sends a shiver through him like it always does, unease and pleasure twisting together in some odd tango, "do you want me to show how much I like you or--"

"I _want_ you to shut up."

That's got a bit more to it, hardens Akira's fingers against his back, and Goro relishes quietly in the less than gentle touch. Victory fades fast at the start up of the fleeting touches again, feathers against his skin.

 _Unbearable_ , he mouths to the stagnant air, working fingers down Akira's back and tugging at the other's pants impatiently. Akira doesn't comply until he hooks a finger and twists it around the boxers beneath for attention, but he only reaches his hand back to bring Goro's back up front and kiss it from pad to heel, eyes heated with determination.

The stare holds, Goro tense and pressing his lips against the groan that wants to slip once Akira starts to move his hips in a certain rhythm, first back and forth and then in a small circle, sucking gently at his wrist. His tongue moves in the same way and Goro exhales haggardly, asking how long Akira planned to torture him like this.

"Is it really torture?" He asks instead of answering, nuzzling into his palm and smirking lightly. Goro can almost imagine the mask. "Your hands are free, Goro, if you don't like it you can shove me off again."

The problem was that he _did_ like it, as uneasy as it made him, the cusp of a roller coaster just before it falls. He swipes his tongue over his lips and glances away, neck heating up at the lack of composure. "I wish you'd stop playing."

"I'm not."

It seems truthful enough, but he's not sure how much he can trust it. Regardless, Akira showers him with more and more affection than he can bear, hands smoothing down his legs as he gets on his knees and unbuckles Goro's belt, jolts of electricity every time skin touched skin; it worsens when Akira's hand wraps around his hardened cock and he makes a show of _tasting_ it, eyes barely visible under the fringe of his bangs. Goro hadn't realized he'd shoved half his knuckle into his mouth until the pressure from his clenching teeth gets to be too much and he slides it out, vaguely disgusted at his own spit until he's dragged back to the situation by a tongue gently pressed against on his shaft, inhaling sharply.

 _Fuck,_ Akira's mouth is hot.

He thought that maybe Akira'd let up on the slow and steady act at this point, but it becomes oddly more _prominent_ instead. Maybe he's just more aware of it than before. The difference is, thankfully, that Goro's hands can slide to the back of Akira's head and force him faster, choking laughter at the disgruntled noise Akira makes and _god_ if it doesn't feel relieving to have control again. Akira presses both hands to Goro's thighs and forces his next descent to stop, quivering as Goro tries to push against it, and they're at a hot, wet impasse.

"If you weren't-- so _slow_ ," he hisses, "then I wouldn't-- wouldn't be _doing_ \-- _this_."

Akira rolls his eyes and waits until Goro's hands are off him to release his grip on Goro's legs, spitting out excess drool onto the ground and resting his palm against the side of Goro's shaft, thumb running up and down it as he lays his head on a thigh. "Don't you trust me?"

 _Of course not_ stays behind his lips.

 _I trust you as much as you trust me_ also goes unspoken.

The silence might be telling enough, just the forgettable howl of voices and small hitches of breath Goro offers in reply, because Akira's lips twist in a frown and he shakes his head.

"Relax," he tries, "it's alright."

Goro glances away briefly, shifting more downward with an aggravated sound, eyes closing as he presses his hands into his legs. "Next time, _I'm_ going down on _you_ , and we'll see how you like it then."

Akira laughs, warm breath barely reaching his cock, and he shivers. Inhales when the other's mouth captures him again, arching against the back of the chair and sliding his hands against the plastic of the seat, gripping hard. With his eyes closed it's like a new world opens up, filled with sensations over sights; he imagines Akira working on him, feels the smile around his shaft, but the best part comes when tongue and teeth is replaced by the roughness of his hand again and Goro groans at pressure against the crook of his neck, Akira's free hand pressing his shoulder painfully against the back of the chair.

"Not so bad, is it, Detective?"

"I miss when you couldn't talk," a breathy lament, but it just makes Akira huff against his skin.

"And here I thought you enjoyed our conversations."

Goro laughs with so little air in his lungs, hands skirting up Akira's arms and curling into his hair again, pulling him closer to kiss hungrily as the hand's pace picks up. Akira gives him everything he wants, gnash of teeth or something deep with tongue, cheeks hot so close to his; Goro opens his eyes a crack and doubtfully names the warm coil in his chest something silly like _love_ for a minute, eyes squeezing as tight as the nerves in his body and he breaks from the other, pressing his face into his shoulder to muffle the guttural moan of Akira's given name, shuddering through orgasm.

Takes a few moments that stretches unto forever, becomes aware of the gentle caress against the back of his head and the nape of his neck and nuzzles into Akira with a hum, working his mouth kindly against the other's skin and chuckling at the pleasing tension that comes with it.

"My turn," he whispers against the deafening howl of Mementos, and the shudder that comes from it delights him even more. "I'll be kind," he promises with a sweet tone, laughter being the response this time.

"Don't go soft on me, Goro," Akira murmurs, tilting his head away in a quiet request for more, and Goro hums gently, nuzzling him again. Then, after a moment, a quiet observation. "You always get like this."

He decides not to give anything away at that, pulling Akira back into his lap and wrapping one arm around him, his free hand grazing over the hardness pressing against the front of the other's pants and smirking lightly at the barely restrained noise.

At least the Metaverse has easy clean up.


End file.
